Growing up Unitarian Universalist, I always loved celebrating “all the holidays.”  Christmas, Hannukah, Divali, Easter, May Day, Passover, the Solstice…  But when I was older I realized there were a lot of holidays I’d heard of, but not observed with my family or church.  The somber holidays, the serious ones – the holy days that require us to give something, or even give up something.

I like the idea of pilgrimage, — that both the journey and the destination can change a person.  I like Yom Kippur, the day to atone and forgive.    And I like Lent.  To me, it’s like a backward way of making New Year’s resolutions – an opportunity to give up something in a way that makes you a better person.

The first year I just did it to humor Catherine. We were doing the traditional food thing, but Catherine was in a bad-ass ascetic sort of mood so we gave up refined sugar, saturated fats (ie, butter and cheese), meat, alcohol, and caffeine. We ended up eating a lot of Mediterranean food (and hot chocolate made with honey). It was fun, actually.  (And then, of course, we made ourselves ill on Easter eating bacon cheese burgers and jelly beans.)

Another year I gave up high fructose corn syrup, which meant I had to think pretty hard about what I bought at the grocery store. Not a bad practice. When I have a child, corn syrups will be banned forever.

Mostly, though, food isn’t the thing that holds me back from being a better person.  One year I picked deadly sins: the ones that plagued me worst were Sloth and Spite.  I discovered I could give up one or the other, but not both at the same time.  :)  I also spent some useful time thinking about the difference between envy, avarice, and lust, and anger, spite, and pride. And sloth and lust. And envy and spite. It’s interesting. I made a new list of the things I’d declare Deadly Sins if it were up to me, and top on the list was Despair.

That was a long time ago. Sometimes now I think I’d put Hope at the top of my list of deadly sins. In my experience, it’s been more insidious, more addictive, and more harmful. Hope clings to what’s selfish and weak in me. I did try giving up hope for Lent once  – hope for something that could never be – but it didn’t actually work out well.  For one thing, Easter was an emotional disaster.

This year I’ve simply given up my Christmas Tree for Lent.  (I have trouble letting go of Christmas!)

What I’d actually like to give up for Lent: loneliness.
— I’d like to live like I’m always expecting company. I am happier when my house is pretty. In my head, I know it only takes a minute to wash the dish, hang up the sweater, and put the trash in the trash. In my heart, doing these things just makes me feel lonely… unless I’m expecting company, and then it’s fun!
— the 20 pounds of loneliness I’ve put on in the last couple of years
— this rollercoaster of hope and fear: I have such a horror of being stuck, forever, wishing and longing for something that can’t be.   If I can’t get pregnant, I’d rather just know the truth now and find a way to deal with it.

Someday for Lent I will give up everything in me that is ugly and weak.  Meanwhile, every year, every spring, I’ll get a little stronger, a little better, a little closer to my best self.